


Lonely (But Not When You Hold Me)

by LoveLaniLane



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Support, Dark, Dark Character, Depression, M/M, Optional Chapters, Optional reading, Part of a Whole, Past Attempted Suicide, Past Suicide Attempts, Pushed to the limit, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Supposed to be a story but can't seem to put it into writing, Triggers, Who am i even talking about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 14:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12038037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveLaniLane/pseuds/LoveLaniLane
Summary: Part I: Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.Part II (Optional): The only person Peter needs is Wade Wilson.





	1. Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Peter's depressed in this two part story. It doesn't give any details on suicide but it does mention that Peter attempted suicide before (hence the warning tags). Descriptive details on Peter simply bruising himself (no cuts), but it's the purposeful intention to hurt himself. Thoughts about death are discussed as well.
> 
> PART II (a.k.a the love story) is optional. It's optional simply because this was supposed to be part of a main storyline where Wade had gotten himself killed and Peter (who has had depression relapse before) relapsed and almost triggered himself to hurt himself. PART I is just Peter going through a hard night with overthinking, suicidal thoughts, etc. while in PART II, Peter has a boyfriend who comes home to him every night no matter what. 
> 
> I separated it into two parts because I didn't want this to be a story where someone with depression (a very serious mental health disorder) is somehow better just because they have a loved one who cuddled them at night. No, it doesn't happen like that. Most of the time, people don't speak up and they endure everything alone and don't have a loved one to go to for support. In PART I, Peter doesn't have the support at the end (just himself), PART II give Wade as his supporting character and loved one. 
> 
> PART II is simply put as "the happy ending" of the story I would have written. I don't know how else to say it. Depression is very serious and I don't take it lightly so I'm kind of already pushing myself with uploading this.

As soon as Peter took his place underneath the covers on his side of the bed, he broke down. His sobs were loud and his heart literally ached as his body shook uncontrollably. Tears streamed down his face faster than he had wanted them to release and after a solid minute of crying, his nose stuffed up to the point where he couldn’t breathe. His sobs became shaky and he gasped for air.

The realization that he was alone again, back to the how his days normally ended killed Peter inside. His mind wondered off to memories and thoughts that only helped make the mood worsen. All the guilt that he continuously built inside pressed against the inside of his chest and the only thing he could do was audibly sob his broken heart while letting his thumb only ghostly brush against the bulging, pulsing veins against his opposite wrist. 

He was alive. For fuck’s fucking fuck’s sake, why the fucking fuck was he alive?!? It’s so fucking easy! It’s so fucking easy to just end it all, get rid of the constant pressuring and the build up emotions. It’s easy to slip away…to slip away to a land so far away from the present it could possibly only be rendered as the sweetest dream that would never be shaken away. The feelings…The feelings he had now—harsh breathing, pulsing brain vein against his right temple, the rushing blood running through his veins and arteries—it was the same feelings he had the second time he had ever tried to rid himself of the physical, cruel world.

He always seemed to have a way of fucking up every situation he rendered himself into. Everyone he loves—had ever loved—perished. It wasn’t all coincidence; it was fate that had made him lose everyone. He entered the world alone, lived it alone, and would leave it alone…just as it was always intended.

His depression relapse was hitting him harder than ever.

“Stop it…” Peter growled out loud as a warning to himself—his mind. He pressed the bottom palms of his hands against his temple and took several deep breaths as he closed his eyes. “Fucking stop it! Stop! Stop! Stop! FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

His body jerked upward to a seating position and lashed out on himself. His legs frantically moved as they both tangled with the comforter. His arms were being thrown everywhere—not only towards the blankets and pillows that suffocated him but also onto himself. Balled up fists, using all his might, aimed to bruise enough for black and blue. His thigh, his calf, his hip, his thigh, his forearm, his thigh, bed, thigh, calf, bed, bed, hip, forearm, forearm, thigh. He screamed out in frustration before he fell back, panting and crying flat on his bed and looking up to the shadowed ceiling.

He laid there, taking in every inch of throbbing pain he had endured on himself. Finally, his physical form was settling at some medium with his emotions and his mind. Although, it didn’t seem like much and surely, it wasn’t enough compared to how far Peter’s mind wanted to go, it was enough to satisfy the now. He continued to— ~~breathe~~ —pant heavily, before he turned to his side and cuddled up to the edge of the bed, simply wanting to let his body give into going into the temporary state of sleep.

 His mind was clouded with negativity and horrible past experiences that always resurface at times he desperately needed the reality check that he shouldn’t be living as far as he had came. It wasn’t the first time his thoughts had drifted off to places that turned his whole mood to one of just emptiness. He couldn’t be alone—he needed the little distractions in life to help him not focus on what was always there.

 Thoughts of passing over to be with colorful, majestic flowers in beautiful gardens had popped in once or twice. The frequent ones were wishing to join some part of the blue, clear skies—he wanted to soar high in the clouds and blow gently in the push of the wind. He liked it when occasionally a soft breeze kissed against his face, giving him the slightest acknowledgement that he was alive and living life just fine. He wanted to be one with the sun—not for himself, but for the sake of continuing to be the light that shined way…

 He was thinking about it again.

 Peter growled lowly at himself as he forced his eyes shut and wished for himself to finally give in.

 

Darkness…

…Nothingness…

…Emptiness.

 

Alone.

 


	2. But Not When You Hold Me

It wasn’t long before the softest sounds of footsteps approaching the room gave off the only notification that Peter wasn’t alone. Peter didn’t open his eyes; He didn’t need to because he knew exactly who it was. The door opened slightly, then shut. Peter’s lower lip wobbled slightly as he felt the bed beside him dip slightly and two arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him back a bit.

His lover’s breath was on the back of his neck and the simple feeling was enough for the silent tears to stream down his face.

“I-I-I hate you…so much.” It was true. He hated him for never being there before. For the first two decades of Peter’s life, Peter was completely alone. He had to deal with all his sweet suffering silently by himself with temporary people by his side who either left him willingly or unintentionally. He hated Wade with so much passion for never being there during the moments he need him the most—someone to listen to him, someone to help him, someone to love him. Wade wasn’t there when Peter tried to rid himself the two times he had the urge but not the bravery to go through with it completely. Wade wasn’t there for the deaths of Uncle Ben, Captain Stacy, and Gwen Stacy. Wade wasn’t there! Peter needed him but no! Peter had to go through every dreadful day—every sunny, cloudy, windy, rainy, foggy day—without any hint whatsoever that there was a person who would love him unconditionally for forever and always; There was someone out there waiting for him to share their hearts together…and he hated Wade for it.

 

Wade let out a sudden breath out of his nose at Peter’s skin before hugging him tightly. “I love you, too, Pete. More than you’ll ever know…I’ll always come back.”

And Peter knew it. He cried over it now and forever, but Wade always came back to him. It was what made him different from the rest… Peter might hate him and hold the “Where have you been all of my life?” over Wade’s head during dark and happy moments, but Peter needed to be happy and he was happy when at Wade’s side. Wade was a constant—the constant he was waiting for all of his life. He couldn’t help by love the man for being his realization—the purpose for living in a messed-up world continuously. Wade understood him and that thought alone always made Peter tear up. (Tears of happiness or not, Peter doesn’t know.)

Wade seemed to be all Peter needed to continue on with the world. Wade understood him. He’s always willing to listen and he has a sixth sense on when Peter needed to really talk or just needed a comforting hug. Wade was a life support that Peter depended on…and it scared Peter. It scared Peter more than any thought that’s ever been processed in his sick, messed up brain of his. Peter was sure, as horrible as it sounded, if the man he loved with all of his heart and strength ever left him, he was sure to die.

 Peter sighed softly. His heart rate was falling into a gently pace, slowly than normal. His aching body fell back into the missing puzzle piece which was Wade’s larger body. The next two words were spoken so gently, it might have been passed off as never having slipped between the younger man’s mouth at all. “You promise?" 

“I promise.”

 

And that was all Peter needed.


End file.
